


Inventory

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: I don't really know what this is I just got emotional about The Drawer, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 12:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20994635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: Stationery is in theotherdrawer.





	Inventory

One: The ashes of a long-dead world, a million lives dying as one, carried in the hands of a beautiful boy with certainty in the set of his jaw, "She's gone."

Two: A broken anchor, severed from the one it was meant to hold, yellowing bone near-forgotten in the wash of all that has come after.

Three: Six cassette tapes, frozen in time: "I thought it was pronounced 'ka-lee-o-pee'?"; "Look, it's not a big deal. We just need to do a few of them again."; "I knew you guys were a bit... slapdash, but this is absurd."; "I'm breaking the law by talking to you."; "N- not alone, though."; "Just everyone  _ please _ make it back home?"

Four: An old photograph, faded by sunlight and years and the pass of fervent eyes, one friend and one Stranger and one friend who is more of a stranger with every day that goes by.

Five: A dusty mug, rescued from the lonely graveyard of the breakroom cabinets, polished to a shine by the pass of worried fingers over its smooth edges as he waits for the one it belongs to to come home.

Six: A single adhesive note, twenty words scrawled in an achingly familiar hand, left on the corner of a computer monitor for months before the message was finally received:  _ I won't be here by the time you wake up, but I need you to know that I miss you. _

Seven: Half a tube of burn cream, gifted and applied by a beloved man far too aware that the gentle pass of his fingers over the injured hand was more a caress than a matter of comradely aid.

Eight: An empty space, a hollow in the press of fragmented lives, reserved for a cigarette lighter that never quite makes it out of its owner's hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Tapes are, in order: Sasha, 24; Tim, 33; Melanie, 28; Basira, 43; Daisy, 132; Martin, 117.


End file.
